


Hypothetical Situations

by Oh_Martha_My_Dear



Category: Bob Dylan - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: Drug Use, Drunkenness, Fluff, Its only Pot though so don’t freak out, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19122190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Martha_My_Dear/pseuds/Oh_Martha_My_Dear
Summary: After some smoking and many drinks, George and Bob start thinking about what they would do in hypothetical situations.(Sorry for the bad summary)





	Hypothetical Situations

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, here I am with some new content. George and Bob are my new favourite pairing so I thought i would contribute to the lack of fic made about them. Enjoy!
> 
> Sincerly 
> 
> Marie

What once started out as a harmless writing session has turned into a party for two that has finished off three bottles of wine and one too many joints.

George and I sit across from each other, him sitting with his legs crossed underneath him and me with my legs stretched out across the loveseat while my back rests against the arm.

“So this guy punches you because you got rid of your drummer?” I ask disbelievingly, sipping from my nearly empty wine glass. 

George nods in response. 

“Gave me quite the shiner as well” he says, outlining his right eye with his pointer finger.

I sigh and shake my head.

“Some people, man” I say, turning my gaze to the ceiling. 

The alcohol has definitely done its job, clouding my mind so thickly that my train of thought has completely gone off the rails.

The pot has strengthened this affect as well, changing some of the negative aspects of being drunk. 

Instead of feeling like my limbs weigh a ton, it’s like I’m on the verge of floating off of this arm chair entirely, my arms moving slowly through the air around me.

“The craziest thing is that the same guy made a move on John when we were leaving” George adds, taking a drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke spill out of his mouth slowly.

I raise my eyebrows in response. “What?” I say, my speech slurred and words stretched out for no particular reason.

“Yeah” George replies, putting out his cigarette.

“And when the guy wouldn’t back off, he gave him a black eye to match mine”.

I throw back the rest of my wine and sit up to refill my glass but notice that the bottle we’ve been working on has gone dry. With a long sigh, I lay back down, my neck hitting the couch arm uncomfortably hard.

“What would you do?” George asks, his voice high and curious.

I furrow my brows in confusion. 

“What would I do about what?” I reply, turning my head to look at him. 

He hesitates for a moment before responding. 

“If some bloke came on to you, what would you do?”

The question throws me off guard, making my brain do a 180.

“I dunno man” I answer instinctively, trying not to dwell on the subject for too long. 

George seems discontented with my response but lets it slide, causing us to fall into an uncomfortable silence.

Suddenly my mind is flooded with thoughts, the sure volume of them is out of my control and makes my head pound. ‘What would I do?’ I think to myself. 

If it was a chick I wouldn’t think twice about it, but if a man decided to hit on me? My knee jerk reaction is to say no and be disgusted at the very thought but for some reason I can’t bring myself to be repulsed.

“I guess it would depend” I say, breaking the silence, the words spilling out of my mouth before I know what’s happening. 

George’s eyes light up at my words, his expression is one of both confusion and interest.

“If I thought he was attractive and he didn’t look like a murderer then maybe I would give him a shot” oh my god, oh my god, what am I saying? 

The combination of wine and pot must have killed my last remaining brain cell entirely. 

The silence returns and it's back with a vengeance. The air hangs thick with half answered questions and unsaid words.

I clear my throat, sitting up from my reclined position, suddenly feeling very exposed.

I feel the urge to explain myself and quickly say “But Y’know, that’s just me”. 

Jesus fucking Christ, like that makes my situation any better. It’s like I’ve just said ‘Yeah, I’d suck a guys dick for five dollars but that just my opinion’.

“Would you let me hit on you?” George asks quietly, almost like a whisper. 

No, no, say no. My mind is practically screaming at me to end all of this, to change the subject, leave, do fucking anything but answer the question. 

“Maybe” I say suddenly, the word jumping out of my throat. 

It’s so quick that I takes me a minute to register that it was me who just spoke. At that, the last logical part of my brain decides to turn off, leaving the complete unfiltered Bob Dylan to roam free. 

“I mean, I know you’re not a murderer so I can check that box” say almost in joking way, trying to bring some lightness back to the conversation. 

My attempt proves futile as the silence remains and we sit there, our eyes burning into each other. Suddenly he stands, slowly making his way over to me. His eyes are dark, curious but almost predatory. 

My pulse picks up and I can feel my cheeks grow hot. When he reaches my chair he just stands there, staring down at me. 

For a moment we just stay there, trying to confirm what the other is thinking. I know that he’s about to do something stupid, and I think I just might let him do it. 

He bends down so slowly that it’s almost painful. His hand brushes over my face, the coldness of his skin feeling like ice on my hot cheeks. 

And as if it was like we had done this a hundred times before, he closes the distance between us, connecting my lips with his. 

For a couple of seconds we don’t move, we just sit there feeling each other. After the initial shock had worn off, I decide to take a chance. With all the courage I can muster, I separate us briefly before diving back in taking his face into my hands. 

With a sigh, all the tension in his body relaxes. Now that we’ve come to a mutual understanding, we are finally able to kiss each other back without any doubt or hesitation. 

The feeling of his lips on mine is different than anything I’ve ever experienced. 

Every girl I’ve ever been with has felt fragile, soft, and innocent. Being intimate with them was always like holding a dove, I was always afraid they would break. But with George, there’s no fear. He has power and intention behind his movements. 

His chapped lips give a roughness to the kiss and copious amounts of wine that we have consumed leaves a sweet flavour on my tongue. 

He shifts the direction and sucks on my bottom lip, bringing it into his mouth. I gasp in surprise and grip his hair tighter. 

Soon we both realise that our position won’t work for much longer, his legs will inevitably get tired from standing. 

Hesitantly, we separate, a soft whine falling from my lips that I couldn’t control. 

George quickly sits down and places his hands on my hips, pulling me closer until I am seated on his lap. 

Immediately I reattach our lips, this time with more meaning. The kiss that was once curious and chaste has turned hot and lustful. The hands that he has placed on my hips are digging into the flesh, not enough to hurt but enough to hold me in place. 

The warmth of our bodies being so close together turns me on in a whole different way. His chest against mine, my legs straddling his, our crotches so close together but just far enough apart that they don’t touch, depriving me of that sweet, sweet friction. 

His kiss moves to the side of my mouth, to my cheek, to my jaw, and then finally down to my neck.

His lips close around my pulse point and he sucks hard, no doubt that will leave a bruise. My hands that are tangled in his curls pull his head forward, urging him to continue. 

He moves from spot to spot across my skin, quickly ghosting over a patch of skin right below my ear with his tongue. A breathy moan falls from my lips as a shock wave of heat speeds downwards through my body. I can feel him smirk against my neck, that bastard. That logical part of my brain starts to creep back in. What will people think of they see you going to George’s hotel room without a hickey, and coming back late with one.

“No hickeys where it will show” I say reluctantly between my laboured breaths. 

I can feel him tense up for a moment before obliging and moving down to my collar bone. Thank god I own a lot of high necked shirts.

I start to feel restless as my jeans begin to feel tighter by the minute, yet the space between us is too big for me to get any contact.

I take one of his hands into mine and move it between us, placing his palm over the bulge in my pants. 

“Touch me, please” I say, leaning down to whisper in his ear. 

I don’t have to tell him twice. Quickly, he begins to palm me through my jeans, giving me that contact that so desperately need. 

My quick gasps for air and whines are the only sounds that fill the room. I grind down to meet his hand, each movement making my skin feel warm and electrified. 

This is wrong, this is so wrong. But yet the only thing I can think about is the light touch of his fingers and the smoothness of his lips against mine. 

With shaking hands I reach down to undo my belt, the jinggling of the metal sounding sharp and loud against my ears. When there is no more fabric holding back my cock a shiver runs down my spine, George’s hand quickly moving to wrap around me. 

Again, that comparison between every girl I’ve ever been with and George floods my mind. Don’t get me wrong, I love women just as much as the next guy but there’s just something about the strength and urgency in his movements that takes all the air from my lungs. 

The calluses on his fingertips running across my sensitive skin makes me groan, my head falling into the crook of his neck. 

I press sporadic and lazy kisses to his skin, trying to focus the majority of my energy on keeping my heart from exploding. That coil in stomach begins to tighten and my muscles start to quiver. 

“Fuck Georgie, don’t stop” I say breathlessly as his thumb brushes over the tip. 

“Wasn’t planning on it” he quips, speeding up the movement of his hand. 

My breathing goes from being laboured to inconsistent, gasps for air coming out every now and then, my head starting to feel fuzzy. 

When my legs start to shake, my grip on his hair tightens, pulling him closer to me as my body convulses. 

To more jerks of his hand and I come with a shout, my head falling back, and my arms going limp. 

He works me though my orgasm, the hand that was once gripping tightly on hip is now rubbing softly up and down my side. 

When my mind begins to clear up, I peek open my eyes and see a totally wrecked looking George Harrison looking back at me. 

My gaze travels from his face, down his torso, finally landing on the bulge in his jeans. My face instantly heats up again. 

He notices my embarrassment and gives me a quick smile before reaching for his belt. 

“No, I can-“ I sputter quickly moving my hands over his. 

He shushes me, drawing his eyebrows together. 

“Love, you’ve done more than enough already” he whispers before lifting his hips slightly to pull the waist of his pants down.

He wraps his hand around himself, picking up a steady rhythm. Slowly, his eyes drop closed and his mouth falls open ever so slightly.

He’s beautiful like this.

His breathing starts to pick up speed and his eyes squeeze shut, creating wrinkles across his forehead. I reach out hesitantly, running my fingers across his collarbone, feeling him flinch underneath my touch.

He looks at me through half opened eyes, his hair falling down cross the front of his face. With his free hand, he grabs the back of my head, pulling me into a heated kiss.

His breathing continues to pick up pace until he’s gasping for air. Quickly, I reach down between us and push his hand out of the way, taking his cock into my hand and picking up a fast rhythm.

He disconnects our lips with a groan, his face falling into the crook of my neck. I don’t slow down the movement of my hand, making him grip the back of my shirt with both hands, his nails digging into my skin. 

Suddenly, his whole body tenses up as he comes before relaxing completely. 

I slow down my movements to help him ride it out and release my grip entirely when he starts to whine from over stimulation. 

After a few seconds, he lifts his head, looking at me with blown pupils. 

“That was,” he starts. 

My heart begins to beat rapidly in my chest. A mistake? Is he going to kick me out? Have me arrested? Out me to the newspapers? 

“Wonderful” he finishes and I let out the breath that I didn’t know I was holding.

“I couldn’t agree more” I say with a smile. 

He smiles back and leans into press a soft kiss to my lips. 

“I like you Bob” he says quietly. 

I run my hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. 

“I like you to Georgie” I respond. 

“Although, next time we should probably take our shirts of first” he says, looking down at the sticky situation between us.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll ever get this stain out” I say laughing.

Then it hits me, next time? 

“Next time?” I say, echoing my thoughts. 

He smiles nervously. 

“If you want” he says. 

Now it’s my turn to lean down and kiss him, once on the lips, once on the cheek. 

“I would love to”.


End file.
